


nocturne: waging love with the armor of dreams

by organicdonut



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Clexa, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 17:40:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10995762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/organicdonut/pseuds/organicdonut
Summary: Lexa and Clarke get trapped in a bunker together during an acid fog run. Set sometime during early Season 2. Muses about Lexa's mom. Lexa cooks and Clexa fluff.“You can cook?”Lexa looks up at surprised blue eyes and at the impressed look on the sky girls face feels a heat creep up her neck at the attention.“Of course I can. You can’t lead anyone on an empty stomach.”





	nocturne: waging love with the armor of dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! Hope you enjoy this one shot and some of my fav headcannons.

_(nocturne: a musical composition that has a romantic or dreamy character)_

_the armor of dreams_

* * *

 

She has dreams, at nighttime, of a world as peaceful as her mother used to tell her stories of at night. Stories about trading, easy trading without the slightest bit of tension, stories about the only battles being waged the games played by young children, stories about animals that were beautiful and majestic, soft to the touch. Those are the dreams she carries in her armor, welded into the metal of her battle gear, soft as a cloud, although most think that she just holds bloodlust in her blades (she knows that it’s safer that way, but resents it all the same.)

She has dreams or memories rather (could you dream a memory, Lexa wonders) of her and her mother in that world, with her grandpa reading by the fire in the background, her mother’s hands slowly yet quickly putting strands of her rough hair into secure braids. Slowly because they had all the time in the world and quickly because her mother had so much to teach her.

_Why do you tie the brands so tightly, mother?_

_So you don’t lose any of your hair, darling. Anyone who saw would try to steal it from you._

Lexa’s mother taught her how to cook, some old recipe from some books scouts had found in an old bunker. Ratatouille, she said it was called. When asked why she, a nightblood, must learn how to cook, her mother simply said _you can’t lead anyone on an empty stomach._  

Lexa has to learn sooner than she pleased how to tie the braids herself and how to cook a full meal.

* * *

 

There is one day the two leaders from the most opposite sides on the planet find themselves stuck in an underground bunker than Raven had found a couple days earlier, waiting for a friendly bout of acid gas to pass them by. The bunker is pretty large, with a couple sleeping bags and a quite old pair of chairs by a table with a large rack of shelves of supplies and even a small counter top with some cutlery and pots and pans. Lexa looks at Clarke with more than mild intrigue, still taken a back from the memory of the girl, confident yet scared, who came into her tent waging promises and anger. The acid gas, she gathers, will take a couple hours (to be safe) to pass. They don’t know each other well, regardless of the connection they already know they can’t escape because but they can feel that something has started, resonated off the slight overprotectiveness of the Commander to the softness and finger brushes they’d grown to expect from each other when it was the two of them.

Lexa gathers the vegetables from her pack that she had been carrying as they scouted and moves over the kitchen area of the bunker. With a sense of nostalgia, she begins to lay them out carefully. There is water and mini burners (if she remembers what Raven had called them correctly when she was showing the two of them what she was stocking all of the bunkers with) – and she takes a breath before she starts to cook before she is interrupted.

“You can cook?”

Lexa looks up at surprised blue eyes and at the impressed look on the sky girls face feels a heat creep up her neck at the attention.

“Of course I can. You can’t lead anyone on an empty stomach.”

Clarke mulls it over while Lexa takes a knife hooked up to her belts to start slicing vegetables. _Thin slices, Lexa, cook the quickest._

“That’s true. It just seems so … mundane.”

Lexa slides her vegetables into the pan and lights the burner quickly.

“I’m afraid I’ll never get to achieve such an honor,” her voice is wistful and she tops the pan with a lid from the cupboards up top the kitchen area, looking at Clarke afterwards, and although she is talking about the future, her tone is nostalgic and intimate.

Clarke doesn’t say anything to that, as it just dawns on her that Lexa is human just like the rest of them. Vulnerable, and scared, and wanting…not much older than she is. A sharp pang resounds in Clarke’s heart as she realizes that perhaps, perhaps Lexa isn’t wishing for blood from anyone but wishing for just, ordinariness. Just being able to live.

They wait in silence for the food to cook and to Clarke’s surprise, Lexa takes out her braids. She catches Clarke’s eyebrow raise and looks away, not feeling the need to justify herself, but also not feeling the need to stop at all.  Lexa feels embarrassed for a second before hearing Clarke sit behind her gently.

“Let me help,” she murmurs for a second and Lexa’s hands fall to her sides, stiffening for only a half second before relaxing. She listened to the sound of the vegetables cooking quietly, until she noticed that Clarke is undoing both the braids and any knots in her hair.

“My father,” Clarke still her hands and rests them on Lexa’s scalp, the cool touch setting something off in the back of Lexa’s mind, “said untangling hair would help me get good with my fingers. Better coordination for stitching with thread like my mother.”

Lexa tries not to focus on the cool hands that were aimlessly rubbing circles in her long tresses, “I see. Your medicine is marvelous, Clarke.”

Clarke resumes her undoing and untangling before taking an exaggerated sniff.

“I hope it’s as marvelous as your cooking, Lexa,” she isn’t sure whether she could address her by her name, but she does so anyway (names are mundane, she muses), “I think we should check on it.”

Lexa is snapped out of a bit of stupor to see what Clarke is talking about. She immediately jumps to her feet to take the pan out, frantically swiping at the steam.

“Is it okay?” Clarke laughs a little bit.

It seems she has caught the meal on the brink of burning.

“It is, Clarke.” Lexa calls out, a little grumpily.

* * *

 

_Ma, I burned it._

_Ah, you did. I did tell you that thin slices cook quickly. It’s important to pay attention._

_I’m sorry._

_It’s quite alright. I’ve burnt more that I’d like to admit. But don’t tell._

* * *

 

“Let us eat.”

* * *

 

 Lexa and Clarke eat their meal discussing what other things Lexa has learned how to cook, which, to Clarke’s surprise, is a long list.  Clarke is surprised to hear about Lexa’s mother but pleased nonetheless and offers a story of her father in return, late at night eating ice cream after a particularly rough day on the Ark. Night has fallen by the time it’s safe to go back outside and Clarke radios in to Raven to tell them that they’re staying the night in the bunker since they’re so far out.

(“Be careful, Clarke. The Commander is ruthless.”

“She cooks, Raven,” Clarke whispers as Lexa cleans up.

“She what?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t sound so impressed. Just watch your back. I’ll see you tomorrow. “)

Lexa finishes up and they look at each other, not sure what to do. Clarke sits down on one of the sleeping bags she’d just laid out and gestures the Commander of the 12 Clans to sit down in front of her to continue untangling Lexa’s hair.

“That was really something, Lexa. I’m impressed.”

“What was?”

“Your cooking, Lexa,” Lexa can’t help the shiver down her spine when Clarke used her name.

“I should teach you sometime. It is a useful skill, I’m surprised you don’t know it.”

Clarke stills her hands again, immersed in Lexa’s hair, “It’s not that I don’t know _how,_ just not how to _well_.”

Lexa smiles at that, “Ah. I see.”

Clarke finishes with her hair in the next 10 minutes, even though she is going as quickly as possible.

Lexa gets up gently with a soft, “thank you, Clarke” and gets another color sleeping bag, green. She puts it a friendly distance from Clarke’s, only about two feet and lays down inside. Clarke suppresses a giggle at how small Lexa looks tucked away and lays down facing Lexa, not scooted away from her at all.

“Raven thought you might gut me or something like that.” Clarke says softly.

Lexa looks slightly offended, “Really?”

“I’m exaggerating. No, not really. She did tell me to be careful.”

“I wouldn’t be so dishonorable as to kill you in your sleep,” with that, Lexa closes her eyes, “We have much more class than that.”

Clarke smiles, “I’m glad I’ll be safe for the night.”

Lexa opens her eyes and looks so soft that Clarke isn’t sure it’s the same person.

She says like a lullaby, delicate and almost a whisper, “You will be safe for any many nights as I have left, Clarke.”

Clarke and Lexa hold each other’s eyes for a little bit longer.

“And fed.” Clarke adds.

“And fed,” Lexa agrees, “Good night, Clarke.”

With that, they close their eyes and let sleep wash the exhaustion of the day off them, bathed in the cool summer air. Lexa dreams peacefully, of her mother dishing out lunch and scolding her lightly on her wild hair, she dreams of her people, dressed in armor of dreams and hope as she sits among them and she dreams of Clarke, besides her, warm and open.

 

* * *

 

_Lexa, darling, you’ve made too much._

_I’ll eat it tomorrow, I promise!_

_It’s alright. That’s why we have company for supper._

_That’s the only reason?_

_Of course not._

* * *

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I headcannon Lexa with super soft mother and wanted to explore that a little with some nostalgia. I also wanted to introduce Soft, smol Lexa earlier in the canon timeline to play around. Let me know how the present tense, interwoven flashbacks worked for you. I'm thinking of working out a multichap fic in that vein. Come talk to me at lexascandlestore on Tumblr!


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